


Harry Potter and the Sexy Hallows

by Smutterings



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: 69 (Sex Position), Accidental Voyeurism, Blow Jobs, Cunnilingus, F/M, Kissing, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, Shameless Smut, Smut, Subtle Exhibitionism, That's it so far
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-20
Updated: 2015-09-28
Packaged: 2018-04-22 12:33:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 6,367
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4835519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Smutterings/pseuds/Smutterings
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>10 years after the Battle at Hogwarts, Harry Potter reunites with an old friend to unravel the mysteries of the long-forgotten Sexy Hallows: three items with magical properties which, when united, are rumored to make their possessor the Master of Sex.</p><p>Work In Progress.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Tale of the Three Sisters

Harry Potter lay sprawled on the sofa in the drawing room of 12 Grimmauld Place. The long drapes were closed to the cold London night, and a fire crackled in the grand fireplace at the end of the room. The flames reflected off of Harry’s glasses as he gazed hazily at their dance.

It was 10 years after the Battle of Hogwarts, and Harry was taking a much needed vacation. He didn’t live here, he’d bought a nice cottage with Ginny near her family, but he’d kept 12 Grimmauld Place as a sort of getaway when he needed a break. Ginny was out for the the week, chasing down Quidditch games for the Daily Prophet, and Molly was graciously watching the kids. Having freed Kreacher ages ago, not needing him to keep any more secrets for the Order, Harry found himself here, enjoying a nice quiet evening, alone.

He flipped through a photograph book of himself and his friends that Dennis Creevey had been thoughtful enough to put together and send to him. Harry thought kindly of Colin Creevey, who had taken the photographs throughout their years at Hogwarts, but was killed in the Battle of Hogwarts. He flipped nostalgically through smiling and waving photographs of himself, Hermione, Ron, and others, noticing how much they aged between each page turn. Finally he stopped, towards the end of the book, at a picture taken of Luna commentating a Quidditch game during their sixth year. Harry groaned, what a fiasco that game was, but Luna’s commentary was very amusing in retrospect.

He closed the book, realizing he hadn’t seen Luna in quite some time, and thought he ought to get in touch with her soon. He got up and moved over to a desk on the wall by the fireplace, where another photo album lay. This album contained photographs gathered of members of the Order of the Phoenix, old and new. He brought it with him back to the couch and opened the cover.

On the first page showed a photograph of the old Order in its entirety on top, and the new Order on the bottom. Harry wished he’d thought to take the photograph of the latter before the Battle of Hogwarts, as it seemed a much smaller crowd than it ought to have been. It was filled with half-hearted and weary smiles, none of them having been through mourning the deaths of their friends at the time it was taken.

The next pages were filled with individual photographs of each member, including ones gathered of those who’d perished before Voldemort’s defeat. Harry pored over these images, some smiling, others worried, and one of Mad-Eye Moody looking, well, moody. Once again, Harry found himself stopping particularly on a photograph of Luna, this one taken at a sort of reunion, years after the battle. She was wearing that stupid Butterbeer cap necklace and looking so… so dreamy.

There was always something about Luna that Harry couldn’t quite put his finger on. Young age and social stigma had turned him away from getting too close with her during his years at Hogwarts, but looking back, he wished he had. She had been strange, yes, but bold, honest, and unwaveringly proud of her beliefs. She traveled with him to the Ministry of Magic to save Sirius, accompanied him to Slughorn’s party, and battled alongside him against the Death Eaters in Hogwarts. She was an admirable friend and, now that he was looking at her as an adult, blinking curiously back at him, he noticed how attractive she was. Her hair fell down past her shoulders, along her necklace in golden locks, her eyes were so big, her nose so small, and her lips- pursed in thought, wide in a happy smile, or round in surprise, her lips were perfect.

His hand slid almost unconsciously down into his pajama pants, his fingers finding and wrapping around an already half-hard cock. A few strokes straightened it out, and he relaxed into the sofa. Using his free hand, he slid off his pajamas, pulled Luna’s photo out of the album, and propped it against his bent leg. The eyes of the Luna captured in the photograph could clearly see all of him from this angle, and she blushed. For some reason, this turned Harry on even more. His hand slid up and down the shaft of his cock more quickly as he closed his eyes and dreamed up a fantasy.

 

~xxx~

 

He was standing at the door of a vague imagining of what Luna’s home might look like, the door itself stood in the shape of a mushroom. He knocked, and Luna immediately answered. She was wearing her Hogwarts robes, unfastened. The robes parted just enough to reveal that she was wearing little underneath them, save for her Ravenclaw tie, matching blue lace panties, and brown knee-high socks. He saw her nipples poke through the robes as the cold of the outdoors met them. Her eyes were serious, and she reached out a hand which he took without hesitation.

She pulled him into her living room. The room was distorted in a way reminiscent of Wonderland, with colorful decorations that curved and twisted. His mind jumped forward in the fantasy to him curving and twisting with her, but he reeled it back to see how his imagination would play it out. She led him to a chair in front of her fireplace and sat him down on it.

“It’s so hot by the fire, do you mind?” She said, dropping her loose robes to the floor.

Very original, Harry thought, criticizing his own fantasy. But he decided to go with it anyway.

“Not at all,” he imagined himself saying casually. He looked at her body greedily, the nipples on her small breasts now visible, still hard from the outdoors, her frame so small he wanted to pick her up as he fucked her. He’d get to that part in a bit. For now, he reached out to grab her tie, pulled her in and kissed her deeply.

As their tongues brushed against each other, she climbed onto the chair, straddling him, and pulled his hands to her chest. He massaged them, rubbing her nipples with his thumbs- she moaned and he felt her grinding her crotch against his in response.

“Oh, Harry,” she muttered in his ear.

She was grinding harder against him.

“Harry…”

He longed to pull off those panties.

“Harry!”

 

~xxx~

 

Harry sat up, certain he’d heard someone call his name outside of the fantasy. Looking around himself, it took him a moment to make out the flaming head of Luna Lovegood staring at him from the fire. Harry was so startled that he’d released the muscles holding in his orgasm, and his cum exploded over the couch in front of him, some of it landing on the now shocked face of the Luna in the photograph.

“Ahh, is it a bad time?” Luna asked from the fire. The look on her face suggested she already knew the answer to that question.

“I, er-” Harry said, grabbing a pillow to cover himself. Of all the people…

“Nevermind,” she said, “ I’d like it very much if you could meet me in the Leaky Cauldron. Does an hour from now work?”

“Er, sure.”

“Thank you,” she said. She began to turn away, but then stopped and turned back, “Oh, and Harry? It’s nice to see you again.” Her eyes seemed to shift down his body and back up quickly, appraisingly, then she turned fully away and the fire shifted back into its usual form of dancing flames.

Harry sighed, a mix of emotions jumbled through him, and his stomach felt as though it had been filled with lead. How long had she been in the fire watching him? Had she only just arrived and called out his name before realizing what was going on? Had she… had she liked what she’d seen?

 

~xxx~

 

Harry met Luna, as promised, an hour later in the Leaky Cauldron. They sat at a table in the corner, each with a Butterbeer in front of them. He was relieved to find that Luna, sometimes uncomfortably blunt, had chosen not to mention what had occurred in the drawing room of 12 Grimmauld Place. Nor did she seem to feel in any way uncomfortable or awkward in talking to him. Harry couldn’t help but notice that Luna was not wearing a wedding band.

“It really is good to see you again, Harry,” Luna said.

“Yeah, it’s good to see you too,” he said, relaxing a little, “how have you been?”

“Oh, quite well,” Luna said, “I feel I’m very close to discovering evidence of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack, which is now most certainly residing in the country of Itallance.”

“Itallance?” Harry said, “I’ve never heard of Itallance.”

“Not many have,” Luna said seriously, “it’s a country hidden by magic, between Italy and France.”

“I wonder where it gets the name,” Harry joked.

“Hmm,” Luna said, as though seriously considering the question, “I couldn’t say. But that’s not what I asked you here for.”

“Is anything the matter?”

Rather than answer, Luna took a swig of Butterbeer and began digging through her bag. After a moment, she retrieved a smooth stone the size of her palm. Etched into the stone in glowing golden letters was the name Neville Longbottom. She handed it to Harry and he noticed that it was unusually warm, but almost as quickly as he noticed it, the warmth faded and the etched name disappeared from the stone.

“Do you know what that is?” Luna said.

“No idea.”

Luna leaned forward over the table, burning an image into the wooden table with her wand. Harry couldn’t help but notice that he could see down her shirt, but quickly shifted his gaze down to the image guiltily. She looked up at him.

“Have you ever heard,” she whispered, “of the Sexy Hallows?”

Harry had to focus very hard to stifle a laugh, and managed to pull himself together. The image she’d drawn was of three circles, the first within the second, and the second within the third.

“No,” he said, “I don’t think I have.”

And so Luna related to Harry the lost and forgotten fable of the Three Sisters.

 

~xxx~

 

Long ago, there were three sisters who lived together in a roadside inn on some long forgotten highway. They offered food, lodging, and occasionally comfort to the weary travelers who passed by their home. The eldest sister prided herself in the flexibility of meeting any fantasy her customers requested. The middle sister boasted in her ability to know exactly what her companions wanted, even before they did. The youngest sister knew without bragging that she was the most beautiful of the three.

Many of their patrons also attempted to court them, but each potential suitor admitted their dream that they’d rescue these damsels from their lives of debauchery, and each were inevitably turned down. The sisters were happy with their lives, they enjoyed their jobs and, despite their differences, they’d always had each other. They had no desire to leave, let alone be rescued by some presumptive man.

The day came, however, that a person unlike any other they’d met before entered their inn. They were neither man nor woman, but they were beautiful beyond compare, and the sisters knew that they were looking upon the deity of beauty, love, and pleasure- Venus, for lack of a better name.

Venus took the youngest sister into her room, and gave her the greatest sex she’d ever had in her life. But when the deity came out, they admitted that they remained unsatisfied. Proud and bold, the middle sister took Venus into her room, convinced she could please the deity with her sexual intuition. Once more, the middle sister had experienced the best sex of her life in that room, and once more the deity was unfulfilled. Finally, the oldest sister took Venus into her own room, and catered to every fantasy the deity requested. And yet again the eldest sister had come harder than she’d ever come before, and yet again Venus found herself frustrated.

Finally, Venus suggested that all three try to please them at once. The sisters hesitated, on one hand, they’d have to close the bar to the other patrons while they were all occupied, on the other hand, it wasn’t every day that a magical sex-being offered them the greatest pleasure they’d known, twice now. Noticing their hesitation, Venus struck a deal. A boon would be offered to each of them if they managed to bring Venus to orgasm in their combined efforts, any item of any magical property they could desire would be theirs.

So without much further deliberation, the sisters closed the inn to newcomers, emptied the bar of stragglers, and made their way to the best guest room their humble house had to offer. And after a long night of pleasure, the three sisters finally managed to bring Venus to orgasm- an event that coursed waves of pleasure through every inch of each of the sisters as well.

When it came time to ask for their rewards, the eldest sister requested a pensieve through which she could recollect any sexual encounter not only in sight, but sensually as well. The middle sister, vain in her success, requested a stone which grew warm when someone thought of its possessor carnally, and revealed the name of that person. Finally, the youngest sister, knowing wisely that with their combined efforts they pleased a deity, requested a ring that, when worn, granted her the skill and intuition of her older sisters, as well as maintain her youthful beauty as long as she lived.

As their owners passed on, their boons eventually disappeared, fading into myth, and the myth itself finally into obscurity. Those who know the tale wonder fruitlessly what might happen if all three of the Sexy Hallows were united by one person, but all agree that their possessor would become the Master of Sex.

 

~xxx~

 

As Luna described each of the Hallows to Harry, she traced her finger around the circles she’d burned into the table. The largest ring represented the pensieve, the middle- the stone, and the smallest ring represented, well, the ring.

Harry took a minute to absorb the whole story. He wasn’t stifling a laugh anymore, but a laugh still wasn’t exactly out of the question. He was about to speak when he felt the stone, still in his hand, growing quite warm. He looked down and, etched-in and glowing, he saw the name: Luna Lovegood.

Harry looked back up and noticed Luna’s left arm, the one closest to the wall, looked suspiciously stiff and slightly moving. Harry blushed.

“So this…?” he barely managed.

Luna nodded. Her eyelids were lowered in a state of pleasure, and her arm was moving with rhythm now. He felt a shift in his pants, they seemed a little tighter now.

“And you’re…?” he bumbled.

Luna nodded again, more slowly and deliberately this time. She tilted her head back against the chair and bit her lip to stifle a groan.

“And you saw me…?” he gibbered.

“Yes!” she cried, simultaneously slamming her free hand down on the table. Though neither action was in response to Harry’s question, he was fairly sure he already knew the answer. Luna turned her head to the rest of the tavern, which had grown silent and turned their heads to the pair of them.

“Sorry,” she said loudly, having already removed her left hand discreetly from under her skirt, “I think I’ve just had a breakthrough on the case of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack if anyone wants to hear about it.”

Almost too quickly, the would-be audience turned back to their conversations, eager not to get roped into a discussion with the woman still sometimes referred to as Loony Lovegood. But Harry’s eyes didn’t leave Luna’s face.

Finally, in a last-ditch effort to seem cool and relaxed, he smirked and said in a low voice, “You come easily.”

“Funny,” Luna said, as Harry took a sip from his glass, “all it took for you to come was for me to say your name.”

Harry coughed and sent Butterbeer flying out over the table.


	2. The Book of Answers

Harry awoke the next morning back in 12 Grimmauld Place, alone once more. He could have drawn out the night with Luna, and he’d thought about it, too, but it didn’t seem right at the time. It wasn’t that he felt guilty about Ginny being away, they enjoyed an open marriage when either of them was expected to be gone for long periods of time, each of them having nearly insatiable sexual appetites. No, it was more that he’d wanted some time to think. This quest Luna was sending him on was new and exciting, it raised countless questions, curiosities, and fantasies in his mind that he’d needed to sort out. He didn’t want to try taking Luna home while he was distracted.

Still…

He woke up on the same couch he’d been lying on when Luna interrupted him the night before, his cock as hard as any other morning. He stroked it absentmindedly as the image of Luna masturbating in the Leaky Cauldron crossed his mind- to him! His fingers found themselves wrapped around his shaft, working slowly up and down. Maybe he should have taken her home, maybe she had been expecting it after that display, had he missed his chance?

Harry shook the thoughts entirely from his mind and pulled his hand from his pants. He had work to do, an assignment given by Luna last night, after she’d proven the power of the stone. He was to visit the London Library and access the wizarding level- a place he’d never heard of and, considering it was Luna he was talking to, a place he found himself questioning the existence of. He’d find out soon enough, he thought, reaching in his jeans pocket for the slip she’d written on. In neat, looping letters, the paper gave instructions on how to find and access the wizarding level of the London Library.

When Harry had asked Luna why she needed him to do some library research, her eyes shifted down to the mug cupped in her hands and her voice lowered.

“They’ve banned me from it,” she said, “they got tired of me asking them to move the books on Nargles out of the Extinct Magical Creatures section, I suppose.”

In an effort to mask his amusement, Harry had attempted to look sympathetic. He agreed to look into it the following day, but wasn’t sure he’d turn up much on an old fairy tale that even Luna admitted wasn’t well-known. At the same time, Harry felt oddly sure of himself. Certainly his confidence was backed by hours spent in the library at Hogwarts, learning how to sift expertly through material from watching Hermione. His years of experience as an auror didn’t hurt either, he’d become quite good at playing detective. But that wasn’t quite it. It was as if something were pulling him towards the artifacts, luring him onto the path that would end in his securing them. Was it destiny?

 

~xxx~

 

Harry found himself, as Luna’s directions had instructed, in the rear of the third floor of the London Library. Already his doubt of Luna had faded as he sensed the magical traces left behind by the bookshelves in front of him. He looked around himself to make sure this section was deserted, but his position was conveniently obscured by tall bookstacks. Harry retrieved his wand and tapped on the four yellow-spined books in front of him.

At first, the shelves in front of him appeared to be breaking as they separated and curved, creaking softly, and Harry wondered whether he’d tapped them in the wrong order. Soon enough, however, Harry saw that the form they were taking was one of an archway, more than large enough for Harry to pass through. And so he did.

On the other side of the archway was a torchlit staircase that spiraled upwards, and as Harry began to ascend, he heard the archway close behind him. When he reached the top, Harry was greeted by another archway, which opened into a library that looked much the same as the one he’d stepped out of.

On the other side of the archway and to the left, scores of bookstacks towered at impossible heights by muggle standards, forming a series of long, looming hallways. To the right was a long wooden desk, a sign hanging from the ceiling above it read: Circulation. Harry was startled to see that sitting behind the desk was the familiar face of Cho Chang. Harry smiled and waved at his old Hogwarts crush, and stepped closer. His eyes flashed down and caught sight of the nameplate on the desk- her surname was still Chang.

“Hey Cho,” he said, looking back up to meet her eyes.

“Hullo Harry,” she said with a smile, “how are you?”

“I’m great, thanks,” he said. His eyes glanced down, then darted back up again, this time not at the nameplate.

Though her uniform as a librarian was modest - a grey sweater and blue pleated skirt - it was plain to Harry that Cho had filled out since their time together at Hogwarts. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t spent numerous nights in his dormitory bed thinking about her, even after they'd split. He liked to imagine that sloppy wet kiss, well... directed somewhere else.

“Listen,” he said, never having mastered the art of small talk and formalities, “I’m looking for a book.”

“You’ve come to the right place,” Cho said with a smile.

Harry returned it, “I bet you’ve been waiting ages for a chance to use that one.”

“You’d be surprised,” she said, “I actually get to use it once or twice a day. Anyway, what can I help you find?”

“Well, I’m actually looking for a fable, it’s called the Tale of Three Sisters,” Harry chose his words carefully, desperate he wouldn’t have to use the phrase “Sexy Hallows.”

Cho waved her wand with flourish, but nothing happened.

“Hmm,” she said, “anything else it might go by?”

“Er, try ‘Stone of Desire’?”

She waved her wand again, again to no avail.

“How about ‘Fantasia’s Penseive’?”

This time, no sooner than Cho lifted her wand, a large book flew from the shelves behind him and slammed with a resounding thud! onto the counter before him. Harry looked down at it, his hopes lifted once more, the title read simply, The Book of Answers.

“Ohhh,” Cho said, “perhaps we should keep trying.”

“What’s wrong with this book?” he asked.

“Well, from what I've heard, it’s… not exactly safe.”

“Ah.” Harry had had his fair share of dangerous books in his day. Books that screamed bloody murder, books that snapped at you like an angry dog, books possessed by certain Dark Lords…

“Well,” she continued hesitantly, “I can’t say for certain it’s dangerous either, only, there’s rumors about it.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You know how they say a good book can transport its reader? Well if that's what you're looking for, according to the rumors, The Book of Answers is an excellent book. Supposedly, people who read it will up and disappear, then days- even weeks later they’re found wandering the streets of a far city, dazed and with no idea how they got there. But they say that someone who proves worthy can get the answer to any question the book holds, as though it guards the information like a secret.”

Harry looked down at the book for a few moments, considering.

“But,” she went on, “I haven’t met anybody who’s actually risked trying it, I don’t know if anyone even has in our lifetime.”

He nodded and, making sure he had his wand firmly in his pocket, picked up the old tome with both hands.

“Oh, be careful, Harry,” she said.

He looked up, and her cheeks turned red at the show of concern. “Thanks Cho, I will. I think I’ll be okay though.”

Harry looked down at the book, turned open the cover, and read.

 

~xxx~

 

The pages of this text contain the answers to many riddles, the keys to many puzzles, and the secrets of many people. Before proceeding through this book, flipping pages until you find what you think you’re looking for, take a moment to formulate the question in your mind. Next, imagine another instance in which you’ve found yourself stuck on something, perhaps you’d been asked a question in class and your mind drew a blank, or you were about to grab something from the cupboard but couldn’t remember what, or you found yourself reading the same sentence in a book over and over again, perhaps you’d been asked a question in class and your mind drew a blank, or you were about to grab something from the cupboard and couldn’t remember what, or you found yourself reading the same sentence in a book over and over again, perhaps you’d been asked a question in class and your mind drew a blank, or you were about to grab something from the cupboard and couldn’t remember what…

 

~xxx~

 

Harry’s eyes snapped up as if waking from a dream, and he would have dropped the book if it was still in his hands. It had vanished as soon as his eyes left it, though its presence seemed to linger. Harry’s attention was elsewhere. He looked around himself, his mind able to focus on only one thing: he was not on the wizarding level of the London Library any longer.

Harry stood at one end of a hallway that seemed to stretch on to infinity. The walls and ceiling were white, lit by torches ensconced on both walls. The floor was black marble, shimmering by torchlight in a way that reminded Harry unpleasantly of the lake he’d visited with Dumbledore on the Headmaster’s last night alive. On either side of the hallway were an equally infinite number of doors.

As Harry began to walk down the hallway, he observed that each door was different from the last in some way, be it size, shape, color, or knob. Some had knockers, others peepholes, some had light shining from underneath- one, to Harry’s great discomfort, with two shadows that suggested a pair of feet standing on the other side. He realized he was getting distracted.

He closed his eyes and began to think about the question, “Where can I find Fantasia’s Pensieve? Where can I find Fantasia’s Pensieve?”

When he opened his eyes again, he was standing before a black door with a bone-white knob. He turned it and the door flew open, knocking him backwards and off his feet. A horrible scream filled his ears, surrounded him, drained him. He struggled to his feet, and with a great force, managed to close the door once more.

“Okay,” he said to himself, “not the right question.”

He began to think again. He could ask a hundred questions and open a hundred doors, what were the chances he’d ask the right one? No, he’d have to try to be clever. He thought of Luna, and wondered what sort of question she might ask. Something… abstract. Something vague, even.

“Okay,” he repeated. He shut his eyes, began walking down the hall, and thought to himself, “What is the answer to the question I must ask? What is the answer to the question I must ask?”

Harry opened his eyes once more, and before him stood a red, circular door. In the center of the door was a large, circular knocker, and in the center of that was a peephole. Harry hesitated, afraid of an encounter like the last door, or something worse. He looked down at either end of the hallway and inhaled sharply. No other doors remained.

He stepped up to the door and examined it carefully. There could be no mistake, this door represented the same symbol that Luna had etched into that table, a circle within a circle within a circle: the Sexy Hallows. He tried looking into the peephole, but it appeared to be one-way, functioning on the other side of the door. There was no knob to turn, and he felt as though the knocker wouldn’t be there if he were meant to push or pull the door open. He reached out for it and knocked three times.

The door opened, and this time Harry wasn’t greeted by a sound, but a scent. It was sweet and smoky, and it drew him in before he could stop himself- not that he would have. He found himself in a room that also reflected the symbol of the Sexy Hallows. The room itself was circular, lined with curved shelves holding various baubles and trinkets, a fireplace sitting at the other end. On the floor was a circular carpet, its design was that of an impossibly immense orgy with every fantasy you could imagine- bondage, pegging, humiliation, umpteensomes, and on and on. In the center of the room was a circular bed, curtained with nearly opaque fabric, the silhouette of a figure on the other side.

“Is someone there?” Harry asked.

“That,” an androgynous voice replied from behind the curtain, “is the wrong question.”

Harry stepped forward, “Who- who are you?”

“That,” the voice said again, “is also the wrong question.”

“What is the right question?”

“That is a good question. But unfortunately... it is the wrong question.”

He felt his feet being pulled closer to the voice, the sweet smell now clouding his thoughts. He stepped over the images of countless orgasming bodies until he found himself on the other side of the bed curtains.

“Can I come in?” he asked.

A silence hung in the air as the silhouette seemed to consider it, punctuated only by the crackling of the flames in the fireplace. He felt himself growing desperate, dying to hear that mysterious voice again, but he stood firmly and waited for a response. He was just about to ask again, when she replied.

“That is the right question. The answer is yes.”

Harry found lifted the curtain and looked upon the owner of the voice. It was a familiar face, but he couldn’t quite place it. A face from a long time ago, and at the same time one he was sure he’d seen recently. And then it struck him.

“Tonks?”

She had indeed appeared to be Nymphadora Tonks, dead these past ten years, and Harry had recalled seeing that face when flipping through the photo album just the night before. But now he was looking at the face of his old rival, Draco Malfoy.

“It’s my turn now, Potter. Does this face please you?” he asked.

Harry thought for a moment, climbing into the curtained bed as he did so. He sat staring at Malfoy for a long moment, then said slowly, “That… is not the right question.”

Draco’s face changed, and Harry found himself sitting in bed with his wife, Ginny.

“Do you love me?” she asked. And she asked the question so sweetly, so longingly, that Harry almost answered “Yes.”

“Ye-That! That is not the right question.”

Harry wasn’t sure what the right question was, but he felt he’d know it when he was asked. Now he was looking at Neville Longbottom, who leaned in close to Harry. Harry, not sure what else to do, leaned back, and soon was lying on the bed with Neville hovering over him.

“What do you want, Harry?”

“That is not the right question.” Harry was flustered. He hadn’t ever been this close to Neville before- it was stirring new feelings in him.

Now she was Fleur Weasley, Ginny’s sister-in-law through Bill, and she began to straddle him. She was grinding herself against him, when she leaned in close enough to kiss.

“Is zees okay?” she said. And Harry knew that, for some strange reason, this was the right question.

“Yes,” he said, finally.

And now it was Remis Lupin on top of him, their bodies rubbing together slowly. Harry didn’t care, it all felt so good that he couldn’t focus on anything. He also felt he was getting the hang of this strange question game. He reached for his jeans and began to unbutton them.

“Is this okay?” he asked.

“Yes,” Angelina Johnson said, panting, “do you want to be in my mouth?”

“Yes,” Harry said to Cedric, “do you want me in your mouth?”

“Yes,” Cho said, “I want it. I want to taste you.”

 

~xxx~

 

Harry blinked and he was once more transported into another room, only this one felt more real. He was standing now, and he was surrounded by carts and bookshelves, boxes and papers. The wall supporting his back felt real, the air smelled real, the woman on her knees looked real.

“I want your cock in my mouth so fucking bad, Harry,” Cho said, pulling her sweater over her head.  Her breasts filled the large cups of the bra she’d been wearing, and he admired her body. Cho had filled out in other places than her chest, having become a little chubby over the years. Her thick thighs looked soft under her hiked up skirt, and he couldn’t help imagining them wrapped around his face. And somehow, Harry knew this was the answer.

“I want to taste you too, Cho,” he said.

Harry slid down the wall, becoming level with Cho, and slid his fingers through her soft, dark hair as he kissed her. His tongue licked a circle around her lips, and she tasted sweet and smoky, and he wondered how that could be. He bit her lip and she moaned, her hands now working on her skirt. Harry pulled back from the kiss, took his own shirt off, and asked her if the library patrons wouldn’t hear them.

“Silencing ward,” she smiled, seeming a little proud of herself, “should last more than long enough. So, how do you want to do this?”

Cho’s straightforward manner of speaking suggested confidence, perhaps experience, much to Harry’s delight. He always felt awkward around the shy, and soon they’d be face deep between each other’s legs, with all pretense for innocent embarrassment out the window. Harry answered her question by lying flat on his back.

Cho understood what he wanted. She straddled Harry, facing his cock so that her ass came down on his face. Harry reached up to grab a fistful each of her asscheeks and gently pulled them apart, allowing his face to sink deeper into her. He felt her stiffen briefly then relax as his nose met her asshole, it smelled bittersweet. His tongue was lapping her already wet pussy before she’d even gotten his jeans undone, and she paused to let out a deep and grateful moan.

He worked his tongue down her pussy slowly, but he couldn’t quite reach her clit from this angle. His hands still on her ass, he guided her into a grinding motion, letting her fuck his face so that his tongue could reach that sweet spot. Cho fumbled with his zipper and yanked his jeans halfway down to his knees with a sense of urgency that drove Harry to work his tongue even harder. She reached into his boxers, pulled out his thick cock like a prize, and immediately went to work on it.

Harry struggled to keep his hips from bucking as he felt her lips come down on his head and slowly encapsulate his shaft. Her own hips were grinding harder, in longer thrusts now, and Harry took the opportunity to bring his tongue up to meet her asshole- she tasted like she smelled. When she moaned into his cock, Harry felt his resolve not to thrust his hips forward break momentarily. Cho gagged, surprised by the sudden motion, but took the quick throatfuck in stride.

She made it a point to take his cock deeper from here, and her head bobbed as her lips moved up and down his cock more quickly, reaching closer to the base at each bob. Sloppy, sexy slurping noises escaped her lips as she sucked on his soaking cock. Saliva was dripping down around his balls at the same time as the wetness from her cunt was dripping down his jawline.

Harry plunged his tongue into her vagina now, circling around the walls as her moans continued to vibrate against his cock. His hips began working on their own, and Cho found herself being fucked twice-over by the same man, and she was loving it. Her groans grew louder, punctuated only his cock stopping her airflow as it reached into the back of her throat. She pulled her head up to speak, making sure her hands worked furiously to keep him satisfied.

“Harry,” she said, her voice shaking with desperation, “I’m gonna…”

Harry paused only to say, “Me too,” then went back to tongue-fucking her with a newborn intensity. Cho returned her mouth to his shaft and her hands held his hips down while she worked it furiously.

Cho moaned, her voice much higher this time. She felt him throb in her mouth. Then she moaned again, and again, growing louder until she was finally crying in ecstasy. Nearly as soon as she orgasmed, she felt one more pulse from his cock and the next moment her mouth was filled with his thick, salty cum. She swallowed it without a second thought, distracted by the intensity of her own orgasm.

She rolled off of Harry and onto her back next to him, they both lay there catching their breaths, laughing occasionally at the post-orgasm waves of delight that swept over them. Finally, Cho rolled to her side so that her head was next to Harry's, and she looked at him, thinking.

"Did you say that you were looking for something called 'Fantasia's Penseive'?" she asked.

"Yeah," Harry said, absentmindedly.

"I don't know why I didn't realize it sooner, but funny enough, this jogged my memory... I think I know where you can find what you're looking for."


End file.
